


Silver and Gold

by orphan_account



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Angst?, Brocedes, Greek Mythology - Freeform, Greek myth AU, Introspection, M/M, One sided relationship, One-Sided Attraction, Silver and Gold, based off echo and narcissus, envy - Freeform, lots of imagery, slightly i suppose, yay imagery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:13:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25764223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Nico shines silver bright.Lewis glows golden warm.The gods have always preferred gold.It's Echo and Narcissus, all over again
Relationships: Lewis Hamilton/Nico Rosberg
Comments: 4
Kudos: 13





	Silver and Gold

**Author's Note:**

> hello   
> so this is loosely based off of the greek myth of echo and narcissus  
> very loosely, but yeah  
> if you don't know it, look it up, it's a good story  
> you don't need to read it to read this though  
> was fun to write this one  
> hope you enjoy  
> see you in the end notes x

There were some who would call Nico Rosberg arrogant. _Look at his jaw,_ they said _look at the tilt of his head_ ** _._** _Listen to how he speaks to that reporter._

There were some who would call Nico Rosberg proud. _Look at his stance,_ they said, _see the look in his eyes, the downcurve to his mouth._

There were some who would say Nico Rosberg took what he had for granted.  _ Look at him,  _ they said, _ look at him. _

Nico didn’t care. 

He drove loud, and talked louder, and if there was anyone who couldn’t let themselves be heard over the noise he made, then that was their problem, not his.

Nico didn’t care. He’d earned where he’d got to today, and he wasn’t going to let anyone forget it.

He talked loud and drove louder, and if there was anyone who couldn’t keep up, then that was on them, not him.

Nico didn’t care, as long as they were looking.

_ Look at him, look at him. _

Louder and louder, faster and faster, till it seemed the gods had marked him out for victory. Blessed him, chosen him for silvery veined, sweat soaked triumph over his rivals, for fizzing success, glory after glory. Achievements rushing in, one after another, silvery sleek, powerful, glittering. They seemed to be hard won and effortless, simple under the gift of divine favour **,** irritating in the easy confidence he exuded at all turns.  _ Surely, he had to fail at some point,  _ the voices whispered,  _ pride comes before a fall, _ and the voices had to bite their tongues. __

Bright and brilliant, surrounded by the patronage of the gods. Envied, his fair hair glowing halo bright in champagne and sunlight, resented, for arrogance and pride, admired, reluctantly, begrudgingly. Untouchable, in a hard shell of fine silver, a tangible aura of sharp tipped, brashly edged talent.

Nico Rosberg, rising fast, dripping in sweat and talk, and loud, loud,  _ loud  _ triumph.

_ Look at him. _

But the attention of gods easily wanders and their favour is fleeting. 

Distracted in a moment, bored quickly.

Changing favours on a whim.

They must’ve gotten bored of Nico.

Because all of a sudden, people stopped looking.

They stopped looking at Nico.

And started looking at Lewis.

Lewis, shining in gold, traced in sunburst rays from the edges, powdered with golden dust. Lewis, covered in a warm metallic glow, light emanating as if from within his very soul. Lewis, arms reached out for victory, outwards and up, pumped in success, crowned in golden glory. Lewis, Lewis, Lewis. Rising fast, a meteoric ascent to match Nico’s shooting star. Drawing nearer and nearer, closer and closer. Shining brighter and brighter, until Lewis’ golden glow started to overtake Nico’s silvery gleam. Until Nico’s gleam was eclipsed completely. 

Because Nico was the distant stars, harsh and glorious, shining in cold silver white light in the heavens, and Lewis -

Lewis was the bright burning sun, blazing in golden glory, lighting up all those around him, bathing them in his warmth.

Lighting up everyone, except Nico.

The brightest light sends out the darkest shadows.

And Nico was slowly fading into the shadows.

Once upon a time, there would be reporters hanging onto Nico’s every word.

Once upon a time, the cameras would all be pointed Nico’s way.

Now those same reporters waited on Lewis. The cameras surrounded Lewis.

And Nico was left to trail behind. Repeating the same things that Lewis did, a fraction of a second behind. A shadow of the golden boy.

An echo.

But that wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough for the gods to abandon their favourite toy. They had to twist the knife too. Because it wasn’t enough to leave Nico by the wayside, looking on in envy, in anger, in resentment.

They had to leave Nico looking at him. Noticing things.

Like the way his cheeks dimpled sometimes.

Like the way his eyelashes curved, delicate against the drops of champagne.

Like the way his eyes looked as he listened for a question, serious, concentrated, open.

The way his tattoos peeked out from beneath his race suit.

The way he treated his fans, kind, patient, considerate.

The baby voice he used for his dogs.

The way he laughed, the way he walked, the way he -

Well.

Nico noticed Lewis.

_ (and Nico liked what he saw) _

Cruel irony was always a favourite trick of the gods.

It hurt. It hurt, watching on as Lewis rose and rose, higher and higher, burning bright in the sky. It hurt, watching him leave Nico behind. It hurt, knowing he wasn’t the only one watching.

It hurt, becoming Lewis’ echo.

But seeing the crowds chant Lewis’ name, seeing his smile beaming, the radiant joy spread over Lewis’ face -

It was such a sweet pain.

It stung and it pricked, until Nico didn’t know what he wanted anymore, for Lewis to succeed and to shine, brighter and faster than ever before, or for him to fail, to fade and fizzle, for people to start looking at  _ Nico _ again.

Maybe -

Maybe he just wanted Lewis to look at him.

But Lewis, Lewis was too caught up in the flashing lights and camera screens, in fan photographs and trophy surfaces. Lewis was too snared in his own dazzling reflection to notice Nico.

Nico couldn’t blame him.

He’d been the same, once upon a time.

When there were still people to hold a mirror for him to bask in.

Now there was nothing. Just echoes.

Just silver, following gold.

**Author's Note:**

> so much silver and gold imagery good lord
> 
> if you spot any mistakes, or have any tips to improve, please let me know!  
> a comment or kudo would make my day
> 
> tumblr is onehonoramongstthieves   
> come say hi!


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